False Queen

by Nikki Jefford

  “They’re not just in the hall.”

  My jaw dropped. “The bedrooms too?” I took Ryo’s responding laugh as confirmation. “Then I’m definitely not sleeping in any of those. “Your family is seriously messed up. Why would Cirrus need so many mirrors?”

  “Maybe he wanted to be able to check if there was any spinach stuck between his teeth on the way back from dinner.” A grin slid over Ryo’s lips as he spoke.

  We looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  Still giggling, I said, “Maybe he wanted to see if a bird had crapped on his cloak.”

  “Or if he’d sat on something sticky.”

  “Or had a great big wart growing on his forehead.”

  Our laughter bounced off the mirrors. Hopefully, Cirrus’s ghost wouldn’t come flying out from one of them to terrorize us for our disrespect.

  Once we recovered, Ryo asked if I wanted to see any of the mirrored rooms.

  “I think I’ve seen enough.”

  “Do you want to see your sister’s old room?” he asked.

  “Definitely not.” The hall felt eerily silent without our laughter. The thought of being alone in any of the deserted wings sent a shiver along my spine. “Is there a guest room in your wing?”

  Ryo’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, several. Do you want to see?”

  “I don’t know. Is there anything weird in them?”

  “They’re pretty boring, really. I don’t spend time in the spare rooms. You can choose whichever one you want and decorate any way you wish. That’s what Aerith did over in the royal wing.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not big into décor. Anyway, I don’t plan on spending a lot of time there other than sleeping.”

  Speaking of which, I wondered how late it was. By now, the night was probably half over, but I didn’t feel the least bit tired. I felt like I could talk to Ryo all night long.

  I liked that he couldn’t lie and that he saw Aerith as a sister, not a love interest the way Cirrus, Liri, and Teryani all had. Yeah, Aerith filled me in on that surprise. The Elmrays clearly needed to get out in the world more. Ryo seemed to be the only one interested in venturing into realms beyond Dahlquist. Liri must truly care about Hensley to go to the mortal world. And Jastra . . . Well, she clearly cared about Liri.

  “I suppose I should try to get some sleep before breakfast. I’ll take whichever room is the most normal in your wing.”

  We retraced our steps along the corridors, my flames waning as my energy flagged from keeping it going for this long. A personal record!

  This Fae prince really keeps your fire burning, my heart taunted.

  I clapped my hands together to shut out the voice, pitching Ryo and me into darkness. I could still see his outline from a foot away. He stood a couple inches taller than me, lean and muscular. I liked his shaggy hair. I liked the dark color and the length not quite reaching his shoulders rather than long like a female as Liri wore his, and as Cirrus had at the tournament.

  “Did a bug land on you?” Ryo asked.

  “No. My fire was running a bit . . . hot.”

  “That’s so cool that you have elemental abilities.”

  “Wicked, right?”

  I saw the outline of Ryo’s head nodding.

  “Well, don’t worry. I could walk these halls blindfolded,” he said.

  Warm fingers took hold of my hand. I wasn’t expecting such a firm grasp.

  My heart raced. It beat straight up to my brain, stealing my next breath. I pictured kissing him there in the dark corridor while the castle slept. But even hidden in the dark, it wouldn’t cover the feelings I had for Devdan.

  I pulled my hand out of Ryo’s, conjuring a fresh flame to keep him from reaching for me again. As the space lit up between us, I expected to see disappointment or even embarrassment in Ryo’s dark eyes. Instead, they shone with hunger, as though he too had been imagining our lips pressed together, exploring one another as we’d explored the castle’s halls, delving deeper and deeper.

  Maybe I was better off taking my chances in the royal wing. But that would mean waking Aerith up or worse—walking in on her and Jhaeros in the middle of S-E-X. Plus, it would ruin the surprise. If all was truly well here, maybe I’d return to Pinemist and prove Devdan wrong. And then maybe he’d apologize for not having my back. All would be forgiven, and we could be on our merry way back to the mortal realm. I’d send postcards to Aerith in Dahlquist rather than Pinemist. But for how long? And how would I know if the situation changed and she needed my help? I frowned.

  “What’s the matter?” Ryo’s eyebrows knitted together as concern filled his eyes.

  “Just thinking about a friend back home.”

  “Devdan?”

  I gave a start. “Yeah.”

  “We didn’t get a chance to talk during his night duty guarding Aerith, but he seemed okay. Liri was a dick to split the two of you up.” Ryo sighed heavily. “I can take you back to Pinemist, if you’d like.”

  Warmth blossomed in my belly. “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do anything you asked.” When my eyes lit up, Ryo hastened to add, “So long as it is within reason. Don’t go taking advantage of a faerie’s promise.”

  “Who? Me?” I teased, placing my hand beneath my collarbone and batting my lashes in exaggerated innocence. Ryo gave me a knowing smirk. “I’ll remember the offer, but not tonight. I need some rest before sunrise.”

  “Follow me then.”

  Not one to follow, I fell into step beside him, but not too close. We returned to the dark wing from where we’d started. I hadn’t paid much attention when we first set out, but upon our return, I took notice of how bare Ryo’s hall was, as though he too didn’t give a fig about décor.

  He opened the door to a room across from his.

  “Go ahead and take a look around,” he said, stepping aside.

  I walked into the room, lifting my flaming palm to get a look around. Ryo waited in the hallway. The room was as he’d said, nothing unusual, just a neatly made bed flanked by nightstands, a dresser, and an armoire.

  “Yeah, this will do,” I said with approval.

  “If you need anything, you know where to find me,” Ryo said from the doorway. His voice dipped into a low, sexy timbre when he added, “Good night, Melarue.”

  “Night!” I said all quick and casual-like, keeping my back to Ryo as he shut the door. I didn’t know if I could handle any last lingering looks with those smoldering dark brown eyes of his.

  The crummy feeling returned to my stomach. Not only had I left Devdan behind, I was already imagining kissing another male. I was a horrible elf. Terrible.

  But Devdan was the one who had left me. He’d stormed out of Jhaeros’s house without another word. He could have come with me. We could have still surprised Aerith together.

  Well, his loss.

  I took off my coat, waist cincher, and boots and set everything on or around the dresser before pulling the covers back on the large bed and climbing in with my clothes still on.

  I lay awake staring at the shadows, heart ping-ponging back and forth between anger and guilt.

  At least I could go back anytime.

  I wanted to go. And I wanted to stay.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hensley

  L

  ights. Camera. Action! Well, no camera. This was live theater, after all, I thought as I bounced from one foot to the other on stage while our group waited for our choreographer to run us through the schoolroom scene.

  Mrs. Bryant was all business when she strode into the auditorium wearing clunky bright jewelry over a long white sweater and large eye glasses with thick royal blue and yellow frames.

  “‘Getting to Know You,’” she cried out the name of the song we were rehearsing, dumping an oversized leather purse onto a seat in the front row.

  The auditorium lights were on full glare. The costume and set crews were seated a fair distance from the stage holding meetings. Dress rehearsa
l was in three weeks, and opening night a week after that.

  “Places, everyone.” Mrs. Bryant stood at the edge of the stage, craning her head up to look us over.

  I took my place center stage. It still felt unreal that I was the lead lady. I’d gotten great supporting roles in the past, but never one of the main roles. Having recently come out of a five-year coma, I felt blessed in so many ways and didn’t want to waste a single second after losing so much time. I’d immediately enrolled in college, not caring that students my age were already graduating. And I had tried out for the school’s first production of the year: The King and I, landing the lead role of Anna.

  “Ruby, take another step back,” Mrs. Bryant instructed my friend playing the king of Siam’s first wife.

  I felt simply thrilled not to be part of the harem. Oh no, I got to stand up to the king, arguing and influencing him. Those were the most fun parts. But this was my favorite song in the play, a very sweet scene in which I interacted with the king’s young children in the palace classroom.

  I was already anticipating running through the scenes with the set designers’ exotic palace backdrops and statues. For the “Getting to Know You” number, I would be standing in front of a large world map.

  Ten children sat on stage poking at one another and playing rock, paper, scissors. They ranged in age from four to twelve. A few mothers sat in the auditorium reading books or thumbing over their phones.

  Mrs. Bryant clapped her hands together and sternly said, “Children.” The kids pulled their legs in and looked up at me attentively. I smiled and winked at them. Mia, one of the cute little four-year-old girls, giggled. “Good. Here we go.”

  The song started, and I sang with it. The lyrics were simple, but they made me feel good, the way sunshine felt in the winter warming my skin straight to my heart.

  The children gathered closer as I sang. I joined them on the ground where Mia crawled into my lap, smiling brightly as I carried the tune.

  At the end of the number, Mrs. Bryant stopped the music.

  “That was okay,” she announced. “Laura, you need to practice with the fan until you feel confident enough to catch it blindfolded. Ruby, pay more attention to Eric. He’s supposed to be your beloved son, heir to the throne. Children, good job. Hensley, beautiful, clear notes.”

  My hands tingled as I clasped them to my chest.

  I was so out of practice seeing as I hadn’t sung tunes, let alone spoken, in five years. Yet, Mrs. Bryant only had praise for me.

  Sometimes I wondered if maybe this was a dream and I was still in that coma, but then I’d do something clumsy like trip over a stair and stub my toe, or burn my tongue swallowing hot coffee, and I’d realize I was definitely awake. Homework and exams certainly didn’t feel like a dream.

  Mrs. Bryant dismissed the children for the day and called up the actors performing the narrated ballet of “Small House of Uncle Thomas” for the banquet scene. It was one of the few dance numbers I wasn’t part of—one that would be stunning with costumes and set design. In a few short weeks, it would all come to life. I’d be wearing a hoop skirt instead of jeans and a tank top. My velvet headband would be removed and my hair primly styled. We’d transport our audience to another time and place.

  I was already giddy with anticipation.

  Ruby hurried offstage with me into the auditorium, pressing her shoulder against mine as she whispered by my ear. “How am I supposed to treat that little monster as my son? He’s a twelve-year-old little prick is what he is. Already has the overinflated ego of a rising star being cast as the prince who will inherit the throne.”

  I glanced at the opposite side of the auditorium where Eric was strutting up the aisle, hands on his hips. Ruby followed my eyes and groaned.

  “Taking his role offstage,” she said. “At least I’m not his real mom. I bet he’s unbearable at home. Then again, it’s probably the mom’s fault for raising such an insufferable brat.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “I think the theater goes to everyone’s head at some point. The sooner he gets it out of his system, the better.”

  “Out of his system?” Ruby put one hand on her hip. “No true actor ever gets all this out of their system.” She waved her free hand toward the stage.

  “A little humility is all I’m talking about,” I said as we passed the costume and makeup crew who leaned into one another as they talked. One of the girls looked up briefly; she had long brown hair with beautiful teal highlights.

  “Not everyone’s as down to earth as you,” Ruby said.

  Not everyone had grown up in an abusive household either. Cold fingers slid over my mind, melting and oozing into my chest. For me, the performing arts had come to represent escape. I clung to it like a life raft in a brutal sea.

  I was lucky Doug hadn’t killed me when he beat me unconscious. My coma had been a wake-up call from hell for my mother. Doug had served a third of his fifteen-year jail sentence. My mom never wanted to hear or speak his name again. She’d supported me through my rehabilitation, which my therapist said was exceptionally fast, as though I’d merely woken from one day to the next, and helped me apply to colleges and set up my dorm room. I was only a two-hour drive south of home.

  “Want to grab a latte and a scone?” Ruby asked.

  “I’d love to, but Dan and I are meeting up to go over lines,” I said, stopping beside the row of seats where I’d left my coat and backpack.

  Ruby tossed her thick brown hair back. “Lucky. I’ll trade you Eric for Dan.”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I prefer men over boys.”

  We looked at one another and laughed.

  “Fine, enjoy going over lines with hottie Dan, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

  Hearing Ruby throw in the etceteras that Dan’s character, the king of Siam, was so famous for constantly saying at the end of sentences after hearing Anna use them made me laugh harder.

  “And you enjoy your latte, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera,” I replied.

  Ruby rolled her eyes, grinning wide as she continued up the auditorium while I slipped between the aisles to get to the chair where I’d stashed my stuff.

  “Run, Eliza,” the group on stage chorused as the ballet performance took place.

  I bent down to unzip the front of my pack where I’d set my phone on vibrate. Dan had practiced his solo scene with Mrs. Bryant earlier and wanted me to text once I was finished with my number. He was a senior, which made us not far off in age. Dan lived for the performing arts, embodying his character as if he had truly become the king of Siam. He had done some interlibrary loans to get texts on the country’s history and culture. He’d even read Margaret Landon’s novel Anna and the King of Siam, which had inspired the play. To top it all off, he planned to shave off his beautiful brown hair the day before opening night. Ruby and I had watched the movie version starring Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner with popcorn and candy in my dorm room.

  As I pulled out my phone, I heard a smooth, low, male voice say, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

  Startled, I dropped my phone, which luckily landed on my pack and not the hard floor.

  A boy with striking ash-blond hair swept back about an inch off his head and fluffed on the sides above his ears sat directly behind me. I hadn’t noticed anyone when I walked over to my pack. He was sitting alone, staring at me with intense gray eyes and an odd kind of expectation written all over his face.

  It took me a moment to process his comment.

  “Uh,” I said, forcing a laugh. “I don’t think I would have gotten the part if I couldn’t sing.”

  He just kept looking at me, his lips pressed into a line. Something stirred inside me, sending tingles to my brain. Maybe it was my spidey senses trying to warn me that he was some kind of creeper.

  “Are you part of the production?” I asked.

  He looked like he could be an actor or model—the chic European kind—with his smooth complexion, stylish hair, and pouty lips. The white cable swe
ater he wore certainly didn’t suggest a sports jock, math whiz, or gamer.

  He jutted his clean-shaven chin forward, glancing at the front corner of the auditorium. “My sister’s part of the costume crew.” His eyes returned to mine. “My name is”—he pursed his lips before finishing—“Larry.”

  I put on my jacket and stuffed my phone inside the pocket before slinging my backpack over one shoulder. “Well, nice meeting you, Larry,” I said, not bothering to introduce myself. I got the feeling he already knew who I was.

  I hurried out of the auditorium, feeling his gaze on me the entire time. I could still see those gray eyes looking into mine when I stepped outside into a brisk wind that seemed to carry whispers on each gust that rushed over my ears.

  But if the wind was indeed whispering, it did so in a language I did not understand.

  There was something about that boy. Something familiar. Something that set my heart to beating. I was having trouble deciphering if it was in warning or recognition.

  Ever since I’d woken from my coma, I questioned my memory, as though I’d suffered from amnesia as well. Maybe I’d met Larry back in high school, but he didn’t look like anyone I recalled from my school days.

  If I’d learned one thing from Doug, it was not to trust men.

  My phone vibrated inside my pocket. I almost missed it with all the wind blasting me.

  Dan: Finished yet?

  I turned the volume back on and texted back.

  Me: Finished and on my way. Etc. Etc. Etc.

  I stood in the wind, waiting for Dan to text back a laughing emoji or “LOL,” but none came. Sighing, I pocketed my phone and picked up my pace.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aerith

  W

  e waited five minutes for Ryo to show up before I told the footmen to go ahead and serve breakfast. If Ryo couldn’t bother to turn up on time, then he could eat his eggs cold. Both Folas and Galather stood guard outside the door. I think they were afraid I’d make them sit down and eat with us again. They behaved as though I was punishing them, like making a school child stand in the corner of the room after misbehaving in class.